


Three Weeks Later

by marashin0



Series: Obi-Wan & Palpatine Father-Son AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Father-Son Relationship, Foreshadowing, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulative Relationship, Obi-Wan Kenobi Leaves the Jedi Order, Seduction to the Dark Side, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, its subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marashin0/pseuds/marashin0
Summary: While still a padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi makes the impulsive decision to leave the Order at the behest of his father, Sheev Palpatine. Now staying with the senator, he adjusts to his new life. Everything seems to be going well... until Darth Plagueis makes an unwelcome appearance.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Sheev Palpatine
Series: Obi-Wan & Palpatine Father-Son AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945213
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Three Weeks Later

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation of the previous entry in this series.

He’d only been living with the senator for a few weeks, but in that short time Obi-Wan had somehow managed to accumulate more possessions than he’d ever owned. He had a closet full of new clothes, cut and tailored in the style of the Naboo, along with shaak leather boots, belts, and a ceremonial dagger, inlaid with gold and silver and studded with a ruby hilt. The senator had then presented him with a ring bearing the ancient Palpatine family crest, as well as stack of silk handkerchiefs, several boxes of Nubian chocolate, and an ivory-toothed comb. (His father had hinted more than once that he should consider growing his hair out). Lastly, there was an electronic translator and a small portable dictionary of the Naboo language, which should prove useful for their upcoming trip.

They were leaving for Theed in the morning, and Obi-Wan was expected to have his bags packed. He surveyed the pile of clothes on his bed, wondering how it would all fit.

He picked up the curved ceremonial dagger, weighing it in his hands. It was a beautiful artifact, but a poor replacement for a lightsaber. Jedi who left the Order were not permitted to keep their lightsabers, and Obi-Wan was still coming to terms with the loss. In a strange way, it felt like loosing a limb. His saber had been a part of him, and now it was gone.

“You can build a new lightsaber,” his father had said, pressing a rare orange kyber crystal into his hand. “A better one.”

Obi-Wan could feel the faint tingling vibration of the crystal in his breast pocket, where it was carefully tucked away. His hand itched to touch it, but he resisted. He felt torn. He was of course thankful for such a gift, but a part of him couldn’t bare to look at it. At first glance, the crystal appeared to be orange, but in a certain light it glowed a deep red. He dreaded to think what the blade would look like.

A red lightsaber?

The good senator probably didn’t understand the connotation, and Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to tell him. He did not want to seem ungrateful, after all. Nor could he bring himself to ask the obvious question: where had his father come by such a crystal?

He was pondering this, when he heard a noise from the living room. Was his father home from work? It was still rather early, but Obi-Wan threw on a bathrobe and hurried to greet him.

He faltered at the sight of a tall, thin Muun standing by the bar of his father’s built-in liquor cabinet. The Muun’s sudden appearance was unnerving, and for the first time he felt truly vulnerable without his lightsaber. Then the rational part of his brain spoke up. This Muun was old and hunchbacked. Hardly a threat, whoever he was.

All the same, Obi-Wan remained at a distance. “Who are you?” He asked tersely. “What are you doing here?” More importantly, where had he come from? Had he managed to slip through the front door without tripping the alarm?

The Muun spared him a withering glance, and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of a pale, corpse-like face, half-hidden behind a breathing apparatus of some sort. The voice that emerged was cold and metallic. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I live here,” Obi-Wan retorted.

“Indeed?” The Muun turned to look at him directly, flicking his gaze up and down. Obi-Wan shifted in place, acutely aware of his state of dress. It was late in the afternoon, but he was still in his silk pajamas. The alien’s rheumy yellow eyes glittered in amusement. He seemed to relish in the boy’s discomfort, holding his silence for a long, tense moment. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose,” he said at last. 

Obi-Wan stiffened at the note of sarcasm in the Muun’s otherwise robotic voice. “Excuse me?”

The Muun shrugged his narrow shoulders, turning his back to Obi-Wan as he idly perused the liquor cabinet. “If the senator wishes to dally with young boys, that’s his prerogative. Although I must say, I’m surprised. I thought he preferred women.”

Obi-Wan flushed scarlet. “I’m - that’s not - it isn’t like that,” he stuttered in shock.

“No?” The Muun paused, glancing over his shoulder, but Obi-Wan remained stubbornly silent.

He couldn’t tell the Muun the truth. The senator had a reelection coming up, and his people took a dim view of extramarital affairs. Children born out of wedlock had little standing on Naboo and were often shunned. It hardly mattered to Obi-wan one way or another, but he was not about to risk causing a scandal. He didn’t want to jeopardize his father’s chances, or see the man’s name dragged through the mud.

He bit his tongue, glaring at the carpet, until a cold gray hand reached out with inhumanly long fingers. The Muun gripped the boy’s chin, forcing his head back to peer into his eyes. Obi-Wan froze, trapped in the Muun’s pitiless yellow stare.

The Muun drew back with a look of dawning realization. He released the boy suddenly, shoving him back a pace. “You’re his son,” he stated matter-of-factly. He straightened up to his full height, eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, this gives me a lot to think about. Who was your mother?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Obi-Wan replied, an angry blush coloring his cheeks.

The Muun barked a laugh. “I see you have your father’s insolence. But I wonder, do you take after him in other ways? Yesss,” he let out a sibilant hiss, “I sense that you do. Have you been trained?”

“Trained in what?”

But the Muun was already heading for the door. “This has been an illuminating visit,” he called over his shoulder. “I was hoping to speak with your father, but I would hate to interrupt this cherished family reunion. Do tell him I stopped by.”

With the Muun’s words still ringing in his ears, Obi-Wan cautiously broached the subject over dinner. “Do you know a Muun named Hego Damask?”

His father went very still. “Where did you hear that name?” He asked, deliberately setting his fork down and wiping his mouth. He stared at Obi-Wan across the table, his brow lined with worry.

A quick search on the HoloNet had revealed the Muun’s identity. Obi-Wan had spent much of the afternoon reading up on the Magister and his numerous shady dealings in the Outer Rim.

“He stopped by the apartment today,” Obi-Wan said, carefully observing his father’s reaction. 

The senator straightened in his chair. His pale blue eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room for any sign of the Muun’s presence. “What did he say? Did he threaten you?”

Obi-Wan was surprised by this question. He thought for a moment. “I don’t think so…”

“You don’t think? Does he know who you are?” The senator pressed, a frantic edge to his voice. “Your relation to me?”

Obi-Wan nodded miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” his father was quick to assuage the boy’s guilt, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “He was destined to find out sooner or later. I’m surprised it took him this long. He must be getting old,” he added with a wry half-smile. Obi-Wan grimaced in return.

“Father,” he began in a tremulous voice, “please tell me you’re not on friendly terms with that man.” The Muun’s reputation was dubious at best. He was rumored to have ties to various mercenary gangs, including the Sun Guard. “What was he doing here?” _And what business did he have with Sheev Palpatine?_

The senator sat back with sigh. He gripped the arms of his chair, tapping his fingers in a nervous rhythm. “I won’t lie to you, my boy. The Magister and I have been on _friendly terms_ \- as you say - for over twenty long years.”

“When my parents died, I inherited a small fortune. I was only seventeen at the time. The future seemed so uncertain…” Obi-Wan listened intently. His father rarely spoke of the tragic indecent from his childhood.

“It was around this time I met the Magister,” the senator continued, hesitating. “He was the one who suggested I get into politics, and he used his connections to help me along the way. I would not be here, if not for him.” He waved a slender hand, gesturing about the room.

“That’s not true,” Obi-Wan said heatedly. He leaned forward, half out of his seat. “You don’t need the Magister, or his connections. You deserve to be here. More than any of them.” He was referring, of course, to the greedy, self-serving politicians who filled the ranks of the Galactic Senate.

The senator smiled at him fondly. “You’re very sweet. But you and I both know that it is not enough to succeed purely on merit. It takes more to get ahead in this business.”

“It takes the backing of someone like Hego Damask,” Obi-Wan surmised. He sank back into his chair, defeated.

The senator’s expression turned sober. “You must understand. He’s a very powerful, very dangerous man-“

“Has he threatened you?” Obi-Wan asked sharply. His father said nothing, turning his head slightly to stare past Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The boy took his silence as a tacit admission. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

As he said this, he reached for the blood-orange kyber crystal in his pocket, clenching it in his fist. The crystal was hot to the touch, pulsating wildly, and Obi-Wan suddenly realized his heart was pounding in his chest. The crystal was reacting to him, feeding off his emotions. He took a deep breath to center himself, and in his mind he began to visualize building a new lightsaber. He would not be caught off guard again.

When he opened his eyes, the senator was kneeling beside him, gently shaking his shoulder. “My boy, are you alright?” He asked, eyes wide with concern. “I was calling your name, but you didn’t respond.”

“Sorry.” Obi-Wan shifted in his seat. He ducked his head to hide his reddening face. “I was visualizing my new lightsaber,” he said in a surprisingly even tone. He was still clutching the kyber crystal in his trembling fist, his knuckles bone white with tension.

The senator raised his brow. “What brought this on?” He asked, curious. His eyes flicked from Obi-Wan’s face, down to his hand.

Obi-Wan swallowed tightly. He hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I need to be able to protect you,” he said. Because that’s what Jedi do. They protect people. And Obi-Wan was still a Jedi at heart. 

The senator’s face melted into a warm smile. “My brave boy,” he said, eyes shining with affection. He reached out to pet Obi-Wan’s hair, whispering in his ear, “Damask is jealous. Because I have you, and he’s all alone. He has no friends, no family. No one will mourn his death. And make no mistake, he will die very soon.” 

Obi-Wan pulled back. “What do you mean?” He asked, searching his father’s face. There was an uneasy feeling in his gut. _Damask will die very soon._ How could the senator possibly know that?

“Well, he’s old,” the senator cried, “and not in very good health.” His smile sharpened. “And besides, nobody lives forever.”


End file.
